


Tears

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comforting John, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Insecure Sherlock, M/M, Masturbation, Not between Sherlock and John, past emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 13:59:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11014848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: "He stands just outside the bedroom and tries to control his breathing. A sudden rush of blood southwards following his accidental voyeurism leaves him a little lightheaded. As he recovers from the shock he finds his mind still lingering on the sight of Sherlock lying on the bed pleasuring himself. His elegant hand curled around his cock, his creamy skin and the dark hair trailing from his navel down to his groin, his pert nipples, the look of abject misery on his face and the tears streaming down to soak the pillow. Wait. What? Tears?"





	Tears

John storms into Sherlock's room without knocking. He is so pissed off about the state of the kitchen he is just about ready to punch that bastard in the face. Really, who thinks it is acceptable to hang what John sincerely hopes is pig's intestines around the kitchen like bunting and spread the other internal organs out all over the kitchen table?

"Sherlock what the.." John stops dead, Sherlock is lying on his bed. Naked. Erect. Masturbating.  Both men freeze, after a few seconds John's brain comes back online and he turns on his heel and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

He stands just outside the bedroom and tries to control his breathing. A sudden rush of blood southwards following his accidental voyeurism leaves him a little lightheaded. As he recovers from the shock he finds his mind still lingering on the sight of Sherlock lying on the bed pleasuring himself. His elegant hand curled around his cock, his creamy skin and the dark hair trailing from his navel down to his groin, his pert nipples, the look of abject misery on his face and the tears streaming down to soak the pillow. Wait. What? Tears?

John turns around and knocks on the door. "Sherlock? Are you ok?"

"Go away."

"Not happening. What's wrong?”

"Nothing. Leave me alone."

"Sherlock, you were crying. What you were doing, that's supposed to be fun. Something's wrong."

"I'm fine. Go away, please."

Sighing John says "OK, fine, I’ll be in my room. If you want to talk just come up. Oh, and we will be having words in the morning about the state of the kitchen." John goes to his room and tries to ignore his arousal, it wouldn't be the first time he touched himself whilst thinking about Sherlock, but it feels wrong to do so given the way that his friend had looked so upset at what he was doing. John sternly informs his cock that nothing is happening tonight and forces himself to go to sleep, resolving to check that Sherlock is ok in the morning.

Sherlock lays on his bed and tries to continue with his previous activity, but even though he is still aroused he cannot focus on the task at hand. He rolls onto his side frustrated and a few more tears fall from his eyes.

\----

The following morning John showers and dresses before going downstairs. He has resigned himself to getting breakfast on his way to work given the state of the kitchen, however he is surprised to find that the mess has been cleaned up. The kitchen is by no means pristine, but it is clean enough to risk making tea and toast. Peering into the lounge he sees Sherlock in his dressing gown, sitting at the desk using John's laptop.

John shakes his head at the berk stealing his belongings, but doesn't mention it. Instead he exclaims "You cleaned!"

Sherlock turns his head "Obviously."

"Yeah, well, thanks. I'm sorry I walked in on you. Are you sure you're ok though?"

"Quite sure thank you. It's merely a physical response to the..uh.. stimulation. Please don't trouble yourself."

"Right." John says not believing a word of it and turning back to the kitchen to fetch breakfast for himself and his flatmate.

After they have both eaten John gathers his things and says "I'm off to the surgery then, it's just for the morning so I'll be back for lunch. You are sure you're ok aren't you?"

Sherlock merely glares at him with his jaw set, obviously disinclined to talk about the matter any more.

Holding his hands up in surrender John says "Fine, fine, I'll see you later then." and leaves for work.

 

\-------------------------------

  
John arrives home from work with bacon rolls from Speedy's and a determination to forget what he had seen the night before. If Sherlock says he is fine, says he doesn't want to talk about it, then that is his business. John has realised that he is dangerously close to using this situation to satisfy the curiosity that he has always had about his friend's sex life, then in all likelihood end up using the answers in the frequent fantasies that he has about his flatmate, and that would not be fair.

He enters the flat and finds Sherlock in his armchair, still wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown, flicking idly through the newspaper. Sherlock does not acknowledge John’s presence, but the way he had shifted when John entered the room and the split second flicking of his eyes up from the paper tell John that he is absolutely aware that he is there. Embarrassed then, in all likelihood, John can’t exactly fault him for that, so he pretends that he doesn't know he is being ignored and goes into the kitchen.

Returning a few minutes later with tea and the bacon rolls on plates he sets Sherlock's on a side table next to him and settles into his own armchair with a sigh.

“Sherlock. Lunch. Come on, the news can't be that exciting.” John says with a teasing tone and is thankful when Sherlock deigns to set the paper aside. He picks up his roll and eats it quickly, not looking at John once, then turns his attention to his tea. He swallows the whole cup in a few gulps, wincing slightly at drinking the too hot liquid so fast. Once finished he stands up and stomps towards his bedroom.

John calls after him “You don't need to go hiding in there. I know you’re embarrassed, but everyone does it.”

Sherlock stops walking and his shoulders slump. His back is still to John as he says “It was totally humiliating. I…” his voice breaks and he lets out a sob.

John is on his feet in an instant and closes the gap between them. Standing behind Sherlock he puts a hand on his shoulder, hating to see his friend in pain. “Come and sit down, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. It's not like you were doing it in public.”

Sherlock reluctantly returns to his armchair and looks down at his lap, biting his lip and wringing his hands.

John sits and regards him, trying to think of a way to make Sherlock feel better. He doesn't really understand why Sherlock is so upset at being caught jacking off, angry at John barging in he could get, but upset? It must be related to the tears, but he doesn't understand that either.

In an attempt to lessen Sherlock’s embarrassment John confesses, whilst being very careful not to reveal who the star of at least 90% of his fantasies is “I do it too. Quite a lot really. In my room, and, sometimes, the shower. It's normal, healthy even, if you don't have another outlet for…well, that kind of thing.” He finishes awkwardly, forcing himself to keep looking at Sherlock, even if the man won't return his gaze.

Suddenly sounding angry Sherlock's head snaps up "I detest that I need to do that. The urges become too much and I have to let this," he gestures to his body "this, transport" this word is said with a sneer "win.”

John tries to calm him. "It's natural Sherlock, like I said, everyone does it. You don't need to feel guilty or ashamed about it."

Sherlock will not be placated, in fact he becomes more agitated and stands up to pace around "I don't want it. No one else wants to touch me like that, why should I want to. I disgust myself."

John is shocked at this revelation "Sherlock, that makes no sense. You are an attractive man, hell you play on it. You flirt with people for cases all the time, you must know that you are attractive."

"No no no! I trick people into thinking that I am attractive using expensive clothes, shoes and hair products to distract them from what is underneath. In reality I am a freak, I am too pale, too skinny, too.. well just look John. I have weird eyes and just my whole face not to mention my personally which is too abrasive and too rude." He slumps down into his chair and curls in on himself a little.

John leans forward in his chair "Oh God Sherlock. You’re so wrong. You are beautiful, and as for being abrasive and rude, yes you can be, but you are also brave and clever, kind, amazing, an absolute genius, generous, and sometimes even  patient." Sherlock shakes his head. "Yes you are, you put up with me even though I have no hope of keeping up with your amazing brain, you explain things to me, even when you pretend to be annoyed about it."

Sherlock just closes his eyes against the words falling from his friends lips.

John needs to show him, to help Sherlock understand that the things he believes about himself aren’t true. He stands and takes the few steps to Sherlock's chair, then leans down to whisper in his ear. "I'm not pushing you, this is just an offer, take it or leave it, it needn't change anything between us unless you want it to, and God that would be amazing, but my offer right now is that I would like to take you to bed."

Sherlock lifts his head and snaps "I'm not a charity case. You don't have to do this just to make me feel better."

John takes hold of Sherlock's wrist and gently moves his hand to puts against his groin. Sherlock's eyes widen as he feels John's cock inside his trousers, whilst not fully hard it is definitely showing interest, and now that Sherlock's hand is pressed against it he can feel it thicken and lengthen further.

"This is what just thinking about going to bed with you does to me. You must be the sexist man I know, this is far from being a sympathy shag." John reassures.

Swallowing a lump that has formed in his throat Sherlock croaks in reply "You.. You really think so?"

John hums an affirmative, but when Sherlock still looks unsure he says "Yes, really. The question is do you think the same thing about me, because if you do I intend to show you just how amazing I think you are."

Sherlock swallows but cannot seem to clear his throat enough to answer, tears fill his eyes and he looks down at his lap shaking his head against the things John is telling him which contradict everything that he knows about himself.

John takes his hand and squeezes it gently "Or, we could start with a hug if that helps."

Sherlock nods so John leans down, crouches awkwardly over Sherlock in his chair and puts his arms around him. Sherlock trembles a little in his arms and John wants to hold him until he calms down, but there is no way he can hold this position any longer without collapsing completely on top of his friend.

"Join me on the sofa?" John asks, slowly moving off of Sherlock.

"OK" comes a quiet reply and Sherlock unfolds himself from the chair and shuffles over to the sofa.

John firmly places his arms around Sherlock, pulling his head down to rest on his shoulder. He strokes Sherlock’s back and says “I’ve seen you. I’ve seen bored you and tired you, angry you and giving up cigarettes you. I've seen you dressed up in your best suits and you covered in filth. I’ve seen you having childish arguments with your brother and I've seen you incandescent from solving cases no one else could even begin to understand. I. Have. Seen. You. Sherlock Holmes, and you are beautiful.”

“I'm not.” Sherlock whispers against his shoulder.

John holds him tighter and gently kisses his forehead. “You know I came on to you, that first night in Angelo's.”

“That was just adrenaline, and, and relief at finally getting out of that awful bedsit. If I'd taken you up on it you would have been disgusted with yourself in the morning, or” he sobs, “or maybe you would have rejected me as soon as you saw me naked. Then I would have lost my new flatmate, and…I was hoping you would be my friend.”

John chuckles “Idiot. How could I be disgusted by you?”

Sherlock blurts out “Victor said…..” then cuts himself off, clamping his jaw shut.

John narrows his eyes and gently lifts Sherlock’s head so that he can look into his eyes. “Who is Victor?”

Sherlock evades John’s gaze, but whispers “My boyfriend, at Uni, he..he put up with me because I did his coursework. He made himself have sex with me even though I’m hideous so that I would help him pass. No one else would have wanted me.”

John can feel anger rising inside, he tries and only slightly fails to keep it out of his voice, “He told you you were hideous, he told you no one else would want you, he got you to do his work for him, and he had sex with you?”

Sherlock nods, “I, I was lonely before him, he was right, no one else wanted me. I, I liked sex, it felt good, so he would do it most days, he was very kind. Of course he couldn't always sleep with someone he found physically repulsive, that wouldn't have been fair, so sometimes he brought other people round for sex while I did our essays. But then Uni finished and he didn't need me anymore so….that's when I started taking drugs.”

John starts to cry, sobbing and tears streaming down his face. He clutches Sherlock to him fiercely murmuring into his hair “No. No. No.”

Sherlock’s voice is muffled by John’s shoulder when he asks, “What's wrong? You knew about the drugs.”

“Oh God. I want to bloody kill that bastard.”

Sherlock looks confused, “He helped me, I, I think I loved him.”

“Christ! Sherlock, he was abusing you.”

“No! He never hurt me, he wouldn't do that.”

John’s face screws up with pain, “He emotionally abused you. He used you and twisted things so you, you were actually grateful for it.”

“No. He was the only one I ever loved until….” Sherlock stops talking with fear in his eyes.

Hope flaring in John's chest he prompts “Until?”

Sherlock’s voice trembles “You.” He tears himself from John's arms and dashes to his room slamming the door behind him. John remains on the sofa shaking with an overload of emotion. After several minutes he pulls his phone from his pocket and texts Mycroft.

**-Did you know about Victor?**

It is only a few more minutes until the reply comes.

 

**-If you mean Victor Trevor the answer is yes. Sherlock’s unsavoury boyfriend from University.**

 

 **-Do you know what he did?** John asks, unable to believe that Mycroft would have allowed the situation to continue if he had.

 

**-I know he was very unpleasant and I never could understand why Sherlock was with him. Is there something I should know?**

 

John tries to calm down. Sherlock wouldn't want their conversation broadcast. He probably shouldn't have contacted Mycroft at all.

 

 **-Aside from the fact that he was a prick, no. Sherlock mentioned him and got upset, that's all.**  

 

**-Very well, I'll trust you to keep an eye on him then.**

 

 **-Of course.** John replies instantly, he knows what Mycroft means, keep Sherlock away from drugs, an upset Sherlock could turn into a relapsed Sherlock very easily.

 

He goes to Sherlock’s door and taps on it gently. There is no reply so he repeats the action and whispers “Sherlock? Can I come in?”

A muffled voice comes through the door in response. “No.”

“Please, I want to help. Please.”

Very quietly John hears Sherlock say “Ok.” He cracks the door open slowly and peeks in, seeing Sherlock curled in a ball on the bed he rushes to sit beside him and pats him on the shoulder.

“I didn’t handle that very well out there. I shouldn’t have just offered to take you to bed, I should have also told you that I am in love with you. I love you, and I want to help you.”

Sherlock turns his head to look at John. “Please don't lie to me.”

John shakes his head, tears prickling his eyes, “I'm not, I am in love with you. Have been for a long time, but you never showed any interest so I hid it from you.”

Sherlock looks lost “I don't, I don’t know.”

John smiles sadly at him and says “Budge up.” He pushes Sherlock towards the far side of the bed and lies down by his side.

Twining their fingers together John pulls Sherlock's hand up and kisses his knuckles. “You mean the world to me, every minute I spend with you, even when you’re an annoying prick, is time that I wouldn’t want to spend with anyone else.”

Sherlock resolutely stares at the ceiling and a tear trickles down his cheek. “Why are you lying to me? Why are you trying to trick me?”

John twists onto his side and guides Sherlock so that they are face to face. “I'm not. Oh sweetheart, I'm not.”

He rests his forehead against Sherlock's, nose to nose. This close Sherlock's eyes are out of focus, but he is loath to put any further distance between them. He whispers, these words too precious to share with the rest of the world, as he strives to tell Sherlock the things he needs to hear.

“Your eyes, there are galaxies in your eyes, I could get lost in them, so many times I have had to force myself to stop staring before you noticed.” He sighs and continues, “Your cheekbones, so gorgeous, I've never seen anything like it. I never knew I could get so turned on by damned cheekbones, it is so ridiculous how hot they make you look.”

Sherlock is lying stock still, he is trying to process this, trying to understand, but the words keep coming. John reaches up and tangles his fingers in Sherlock's hair.

“Your hair, which yes looks great when you use product in it, but I like it best when you get out of the shower and get engrossed in an experiment and forget to dry it properly. You huff and puff afterwards about having to wash it again, but I love it when it gets out of control, when it starts getting in your face and you push it back, it is so adorable, and watching your hands as you do it….” He sighs again and changes the angle a little to press a soft kiss to Sherlock's lips.

“Your hands.” He releases Sherlock's hair and finds his hand, drawing it up to rest against their cheeks. “So strong, so elegant, your fingers are so long and beautiful. I watch them dance as you play your violin, I have seen them so strong holding a suspect while we wait for Lestrade, and so clever picking locks. I have spent so many hours imagining the things these hands could do to me.” John squeezes Sherlock's hand and blushes.

He kisses Sherlock's lips again and continues “These lips, so gorgeous. They tempt me every day, for so long I've wanted to taste them, to feel how soft they are against mine. I could kiss you for hours. I love when I make you smile or laugh, I love your smile, and the crinkle around your eyes when you are happy. I want to do that every day, to make you happy, to make you feel safe. I never thought, I didn’t think you wanted me to be the one to do that for you, but now that I know I'm going to work so hard to see that smile more.”

Sherlock is trembling, his breath stuttering as he struggles with this, but John just keeps going.

“Your skin, you said too pale, but it is perfect, like cream. I love the way your cheeks get pink when you get excited about a case. I want to be the reason you blush, make your skin flushed with desire. Your skin is so perfect I want to feel every inch, every millimetre.”

Sherlock bites his lip, “Not perfect, I have scars, track marks.”

John kisses him again, “I know love, but they are a reminder how strong you are, the war you fought to get clean. You are stronger than that, you came back from it, and now you don’t have to do it alone, I will help you. You don’t have to be ashamed of your battle scars.”

John moves down the bed a little to nuzzle Sherlock's neck. “Your neck, you frame it with your collar, but you don’t really need to, it is a work of art. I…” John breaks off to suck lightly at the juncture between neck and shoulder, careful not to leave a bruise. “I have wanted to do that for so long. I sometimes see a bead of sweat drip down your throat and I long to follow with my tongue, to taste you. I want to find every secret spot that makes you squirm, everywhere that you like to be touched.”  
John caresses Sherlock's chest through his t-shirt, “You, your chest, and your heart inside. So precious, I would never break your heart, I would never hurt you.”

“Stop.” Sherlock whispers, “Please stop.”

John looks up at him concerned. “Why? I'm telling the truth.”

Sherlock smiles shyly, “Just, it's a lot, I can't, I can't listen to more now.”

“OK, how about a practical demonstration then? I'll show you just how gorgeous you are and some of the things I've been dreaming of doing with you.”

Sherlock nods nervously, he may be having trouble processing all of this, but he has dreamed of sharing his bed with John for so long that he can't say no.

With a gentle smirk John moves his hands down and settles them on Sherlock’s hips. “Okay?”

Sherlock nods again.

John kisses him again, soft and slow, as he eases Sherlock’s pyjamas and pants down to mid thigh. Baring his half hard cock, Sherlock tries to cover himself with his hand but John pulls it away murmuring “You are beautiful.”

John fumbles briefly with the fastening on his trousers, but is soon just as exposed. Sherlock looks down John’s body to see his cock, it is fully erect, a little longer and wider than Sherlock’s own and a deeper pink colour. His lips turn downwards and a few fresh tears prickle his eyes.

John is being very careful to assess Sherlock’s reactions so spots the sudden sadness immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“You are so beautiful, and I’m….” he gestures helplessly to his cock, almost totally flaccid now, “you deserve better than this.”

John looks quizzically for a second at Sherlock's absolutely normal penis, then kisses him again, he cups the back of his head with one hand, feeling his fingers sink into Sherlock's thick hair, and presses their lips together, tracing along the seam of Sherlock’s mouth tenderly with his tongue.

When he pulls away they are both panting, between breaths he whispers “You’re perfect.” Then dives back in for another, deeper, kiss. This time Sherlock's lips part and John's tongue slips inside, sliding against Sherlock's, so warm and wet. John moans into his mouth and Sherlock begins to tentatively reciprocate. It is only when Sherlock starts to relax into the kiss that John realises how tense he had been, but now Sherlock's muscles are becoming less rigid as he leans in towards John, chasing his lips if they move back even a millimetre.

They continue to kiss as John pulls their bodies closer, gasping when their cocks brush against one another and he feels the effect he has had on the man in his arms. Sherlock tenses again briefly and freezes, but John just keeps right on kissing, desperate to show Sherlock that he is safe and adored.

Only when Sherlock loses himself in the kiss again does John start to caress his hip, then his lower stomach just above the pubic bone, then lower, slowly through the coarse hair until his fingertips find the base of Sherlock's cock. Sherlock tenses again and make a small noise almost like a sob. John whispers “It's ok, I've got you.” Sherlock hides his face in John's shoulder, but gives a small nod so John continues. He runs his fingertips lightly up Sherlock's length, drawing gasps and moans from his lips. He strokes the tip gently then traces back down again, and smiles when Sherlock's hips give an uncontrollable thrust as he reaches a particularly sensitive spot.

John gently pushes Sherlock onto his back and lean over him, then pressing his hips forward he slots their cocks together and begins to thrust, wrapping his right hand lightly around them both. Sherlock clutches at his shoulders and cries out. In response John tightens his grip and thrusts harder, all the while pressing kisses onto Sherlock's chest and murmuring “Gorgeous, beautiful, I love you.” over and over.

As Sherlock approaches his peak he looks up at John with wide eyes, his forehead glistens with sweat and he is gasping and moaning desperately. John breaks off his litany of praise to kiss him on the lips, a brief hint of tongue, and then small delicate kisses to his cheeks, nose, chin, anywhere that he can reach. He is getting close too, but he holds back, wanting to control himself, to give pleasure to Sherlock first.

It does not take long before Sherlock's moans get louder, more like bitten off screams, and his fingers start digging into John's biceps like a vice. John moves his hand faster, tightening his grip a little more, and suddenly Sherlock is there. He spills over John's hand with his mouth open in a silent cry, and for a second it seems that he has forgotten how to breathe.

John releases Sherlock and continues to stroke himself, the added lubricant of Sherlock's come meaning he only needs another half dozen strokes to come himself, grunting through gritted teeth. He carefully collapses onto the bed next to Sherlock and tries to breath deeply even as he feels his heart beating a mile a minute inside his chest.

Both men are lying on their backs staring up at the ceiling and panting. Sherlock rolls onto his side so that John is presented with his back, he scoots closer and wraps an arm around Sherlock's waist, admiring the broad shoulders in front of him. He nuzzles into Sherlock's hairline and kisses his nape.

“How are you feeling?” he asks gently.

Sherlock replies in a small voice “Confused.”

John smiles sadly against his skin and quips “Want me to keep telling you how wonderful you are?”

Sherlock makes a sound and John isn’t sure if it is a laugh or a sob. “No. Not right now.”

John holds him tighter and whispers “That was ok though? What we just did? Wasn't it?”

Sherlock finds John's hand against his chest and squeezes his fingers. “More than ok. You, you really believe all those things you said about me, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm, yeah I do, and I’m going to keep working on this until you believe it too. No matter how long it takes, because unlike that idiot Victor I'm not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.”

John is feeling sleepier by the second but mumbles “Shut up, you don’t have to thank me for loving you. I'm going to keep telling you how wonderful you are until you realise you’re too good for me.”

Sherlock protests “Never! I’ll never think that.”

John huffs a laugh and gives him a squeeze around his waist “Hmm, yes you will, then I'll have to just hope that my skills in the bedroom will be enough to make you want to keep me around. Now go to sleep.”

“It’s only 2pm! Anyway, I don’t want to sleep. When I wake up I'll find that this was just a dream.”

“No sweetheart, when you wake up I'll be here and then I'll take you out for dinner and show everyone how proud I am to be with you.”

“Promise?” Sherlock whispers.

John kisses the back of Sherlock's neck and replies, “I promise. I'm not going anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, if you did please consider leaving kudos, or even a comment :-)
> 
> I am DaisyFairy1 on Tumblr


End file.
